


The Musky Boy's Club

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know I should either be working on another chapter of Spies and Assassins or, as I mentioned to some who have asked me, started at least a sequel to Elemental. BUT I have to admit that I certainly get my ideas at the oddest times and in the strangest places.<br/>I work at a library and was putting away a book on self-harm which gave me this quirky idea for a story involving d'Art getting into trouble again but of a different sort.</p><p>This does involve self-harm (not anything really graphic). Just warning you.<br/>Hope you like it.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Musky Boy's Club

 

_Musketeer canteen_

“You don’t have to do this. I will not make it an order.” Treville wasn’t sure he should put his youngest Musketeer in this situation but the boy proved eager to do this, even if he didn't have to prove himself any longer. This was d’Artagnan after all.

“There are a few problems to be considered,” d’Artagnan raised an eyebrow while he dug into his omelette that Serge made especially for him.

“And they would be?” Treville quirked a brow as he sipped his coffee his eyes trained on d’Artagnan the entire time.

Stabbing his fork in the air each time he called out a name, d'Artagnan ticked them off one by one. “Athos... Porthos... and Aramis.”

“Mmmmm, yes er well," Treville couldn't quite look the lad in the eye, "when you’re inaccessible to them I’m sure you can come up with something plausible that they’ll believe.”

“My thanks for your confidence,” d’Artagnan smiled ruefully as he thought that even the captain couldn't help him come up with an excuse that would satisfy the inseparables. “Is there perhaps a reason you do not want them to know what I will be involved in?”

“They’ll be against you taking this on and perhaps rightly so.” Treville still was worried about using the lad in this assignment, but d’Artagnan’s age provided a good _in_ with these particular Musketeers he was going to throw their youngest at. “If the rumors that have reached my ears hold any truth in them,” a frown marred Treville's features as he was displeased with the actions of his own men, “the regiment could do well without them. I need to know how many more of their number are involved than just these four.”

“I have never heard of harming oneself deliberately,” d’Artagnan remarked, “except of course in the case of suicide.”

“They are both closely related,” Treville stared down into his empty cup of coffee then raised his eyes to meet the curious ones of the youngster. “There are many theories about causing harm to one's self. It can off times be the result of a traumatic experience or even a mental disorder and can take many forms. Alcoholism, drug abuse, self-poisoning, self-flagellants, the list goes on.”

“Athos used to drink to excess but I didn’t look at it like that.”

“Non,” Treville shook his head. “His was caused by an ache in his heart. If anything,” he snorted, “Athos looked forward to dying bravely in battle.” Pinning d’Artagnan with a stern look, Treville warned him. “I want you to be extremely careful in your dealings with these men. Understood?”

Returning the look with one of his own, d’Artagnan smirked. “You do realize that I’m going to have to participate in some like manner for them to believe in me,” d’Artagnan signaled to Serge that he was ready for another cup of coffee as he held his mug in the air.

“And that’s the reason I’m of two minds about this whole plan,” Treville snapped. He waited as Serge scurried over to their table and gave d’Artagnan a refill.

“I’ll try to just get away with some superficial cuts on my arms where Aramis won’t see them later.” Then d'Artagnan realized that he could only do so much on one area. "If this assignment lasts too long I may have to do the same to my legs," he took another sip of his coffee and waited for the captain to add something. For he knew the officer wasn't done with him yet.

“I must be out of my mind," Treville ran a hand down the side of his face. "Athos and the others will string me up when they find out what I’m sending you into,” Treville rubbed at his forehead feeling a headache beginning to blossom.

“I think it’s worth the risk to get these men out of the regiment before they give us a poor reputation.” Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan smirked, “Which I’m quite sure the cardinal would delight in divulging to the king.”

“That is my greatest worry for the moment,” Treville nodded at the young man. “All right, get out of here before I do come to my senses,” he watched the grin spread over the pup’s face as d’Artagnan gulped the remaining dark brew down hastily.

“I thought I noticed them down by the stables when I came to meet you,” d’Artagnan said. “I’ll see if I can still catch them there.”

As d’Artagnan left, Treville prayed the lad came out of this with his skin intact.

++++

_Garrison stable_

Approaching the stable, d’Artagnan could see the small group of Musketeers he was to infiltrate. “Bonjour, Tumas, Alain, Edward, Marc,” he acknowledged each one with a smile and nod of his head.

“D’Artagnan,” Tumas grinned, pleased to see him. “We were just talking about why you never seem to have any time to bother with the rest of us lowly Musketeers,” he laughed at his own jest. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight instead of your other pals,” he snickered. “I mean you’ve got to be getting tired of hanging around the older generation as much as you have been.”

“You mean tired of hearing their same boring stories, don’t you?” d’Artagnan chuckled, though he held back from what he’d really liked to tell Tumas as he played along.

“At least we’re all in our mid twenties verses being over thirty as they are,” Alain commented sarcastically. “You’re only nineteen and need to be with people closer to your own age at times,” he snapped his fingers, “or before you know it you’ll be acting like an old man just like them.”

Nodding his head at the appropriate times, making them think he was absorbing their words of wisdom, d’Artagnan focused back on Tumas. “I’ve no plans for this evening. So what’s on?”

“My place,” Tumas winked at him. “One of the perks of having rich parents,” he chuckled. “I can afford my own apartment away from the garrison and prying eyes.”

“Fine by me,” d’Artagnan smiled. “Just give me the directions and time. I’ll be there.”

“We’ll all meet up around six p.m. at Rue Des Fossoyeurs,” Tumas tilted his head as he observed d’Artagnan. “Do you know where that is?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan bobbed his head. “It’s on a narrow street near Place Saint-Sulpice,” he laughed. “You chose a place with a curious name, mon ami.”

“Ah!” Tumas exchanged a knowing look with the rest of his friends. “Grave Diggers Street, oui. The name called out to me and I thought it quite appropriate at the time when I chose there to live.”

“I’ve got practice in hand-to-hand with Porthos shortly so I’ll see you all tonight then.” Waving goodbye, d’Artagnan went to meet up with his friend. Pleased that this meeting had gone off without a hitch.

++++

_Courtyard_

“Well, whelp,” Porthos rubbed his hands together in glee as he stared down at the ground where d’Artagnan currently laid in the dirt, “up for dinner tonight at The Pelican?”

Holding out his arm, Porthos gripped d’Artagnan’s hand and pulled him back onto his feet. Dusting himself off, he grimaced. “Uh, I’ll have to pass,” he noted Porthos’ frowning at him. “I got plans with a few of my other friends for later.”

“Who would those be?” Porthos folded his arms and studied the pup intently. He shouldn’t feel disgruntled over the fact that d’Artagnan had other friends, knowing that the boy wasn’t theirs exclusively. But damn if he didn’t worry when their young one was out of their sight. When he pressed d’Artagnan for the names of these other _friends_ , Porthos didn’t feel much better. He was acquainted with that sorry excuse of a quartet and couldn’t say they impressed him any. “Well perhaps you could join us tomorrow evening.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that. Depends on what the others want to do,” d’Artagnan needed to appease his friend somehow but couldn’t figure how to go about it. “Do me a favor and show me that dirty move you just pulled on me again?”

++++

_Evening at Tumas’ apartment_

“Nice place,” d’Artagnan’s eyes roamed over the elaborately decorated room he was in as he sipped his glass of wine.

“I can afford it,” Tumas replied casually. “But let’s not talk about what my money can buy,” he raised his own glass high in the air. “Tonight’s a night for initiations, mon amis!”

“Whose?” d’Artagnan placed his glass down on the table feeling that this was the moment he had been anticipating and dreading all rolled into one.

“Why yours of course.” Tumas rolled up the sleeves of his own shirt to reveal a series of deep cuts running all along both of his arms. “We’re sort of an exclusive club, d’Artagnan,” he announced proudly.

“Yeah,” Alain snorted. “We like to call ourselves _The Musky Boy’s Club_.” He broke out in loud laughter with the others joining in.

“Catchy name,” d’Artagnan was still trying to get over seeing the marks covering Tumas’ arms and knew what he was in for himself.

“I thought it rather charming at the time when I dubbed us that,” Tumas chuckled.

“Aside from the four of us there’s another group we’ll introduce you to later,” Marc offered.

Tumas came to stand close to d’Artagnan’s side. He could see the way the youngster still stared at his cuttings. “You’re wondering where I came by these,” he held his arms out to the boy for closer inspection. “I did them to myself.”

“He likes to cut,” Edward pointed out. “Me, I like to gouge my skin with deep scratches until I get all nice and bloody.”

“Whereas I favor burning myself,” Alain added pleasantly. “And there isn’t a wall safe from Marc as he likes bashing his head against them or hitting himself with anything that’s handy.”

Seeing as d’Artagnan held his tongue at their revelations, Tumas licked his lips like a satisfied cat. He was delighted that d'Artagnan didn't seem put off yet by what he had been shown and told. “Which would you like to try your hand at?” This would prove whether he was wrong in letting the lad into their club.

Reaching for his own dagger tucked inside his weapon’s belt, d’Artagnan held it up. “ _Cutting_.”

++++

_Next day at breakfast_

“Are you all right, d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked as he noticed the boy constantly rubbing at his arms.

“Just a bit sore,” d’Artagnan admitted. “I was up early giving the horses a rub down,” he winced as he lied to him, though Aramis not knowing any different probably thought it was just overworked muscles. “I should have taken a break but didn't.”

“I have a salve that would help with that,” Aramis generously offered. He and his fellow brothers had greatly missed the pup at dinner the previous night.

“My thanks. When I am done I could use it,” d’Artagnan went back to eating his plate of eggs.

“How was your evening out?” Athos was greatly troubled when Porthos told them of the boy’s new friends. Those four didn’t have the best reputations and Athos was taken aback that d’Artagnan chose them to go about with. Though the pup had been with them only a short time, perhaps the lad hadn’t heard the reports about those particular young men yet. Although he didn’t want d’Artagnan to learn it the hard way and thus get hurt in the process, Athos also didn’t want their youngest to think that they were trying to keep d’Artagnan all to themselves either.

“I didn’t realize Tumas came from a monied background,” d’Artagnan told them. “His apartment was amazing.”

“Well don’t let it go to your head,” Aramis warned with a finger in the air. “You’re just like the rest of us poor sods and don’t you forget it,” he tapped the boy on the nose with his spoon.

“Aramis!” d’Artagnan whined, wiping away the residue of porridge left behind by his friend’s utensil. But hearing everyone around him laughing made him feel better about not telling them the truth.

++++

_Later that same day, Athos’ apartment_

“Somethin’s up,” Porthos grunted, looking at his brother’s contemplative faces.

“I agree,” Athos exchanged a strained look with Aramis.

“What we gonna do about it?” Porthos growled. Knowing that d’Artagnan was tangled up in some intrigue. Their pup was too young to have developed a poker face yet, so it didn’t take any of them by surprise that d’Artagnan was lying to them.

“We see Treville.” Seeing his brothers in accord with him, Athos led the way.

++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

“Why do I bother having a door when you never knock but stride in here likes it’s your God given right?” Treville huffed in quiet anger, for he knew what this visit was all about. He had seen it coming since d’Artagnan went covert.

“We’d like some answers, Captain,” Aramis put in, his hand twitched on the pommel of his sword. Not that he was going to use it against his captain. It was more a reflex on his own part.

“Honest ones,” Athos added, earning a glare from Treville.

“I gather this is about d’Artagnan?” Treville asked, trying to act like things were normal, even though they were far from it.

“Yeah, our whelp's hangin' about with those new friends of his,” Porthos answered unhappily.

Scratching at his beard, Treville threw them a bone. “Let’s just say the lad’s doing me a favor and leave it at that.” It didn’t escape his notice that all three of his best men weren’t satisfied with his answer. “Gents, let it lie for now.”

Not hearing what they hoped, the inseparables tipped their hats in respect, turned and left quietly the way they came in.

++++

_A week later - Tumas’ apartment, early evening_

So far d’Artagnan had managed to cut his arms enough to satisfy Tumas and the others. But knowing that wasn’t enough he started marking his legs as well. So far all his cuts only stung a bit and he always made sure to disinfect them as soon as he got back to the garrison. Still, he had yet to discover the remaining men involved in this club and that’s what d’Artagnan was working toward. “Ummm, Tumas, you said there were others in the regiment that liked doing this?”

“Right now they’ve been on assignment out of Paris, but we’ll introduce you to them when they get back,” Alain offered instead.

“Though they’re not as much fun as we are,” Marc snorted.

“Denys, Estienne, Audebert and Francois will be pleased to know you’ve become a member as well, d’Artagnan,” Edward smiled at the boy.

“I’ve got something in mind for d’Artagnan to try,” Tumas held out his dagger.

Now that d’Artagnan found out who the remaining men were, he was eager to make his excuses and get out of here. Especially when he had a bad feeling about that funny look shining in Tumas’ eyes, let alone the dagger the man waved in the air. Pretending to yawn, d’Artagnan tried to make his excuses. “Uh, guys, I think I’m going to turn in. I’ve got parade duty quite early on the morrow.” Looking at how displeased Tumas seemed he tried to appease him. “Perhaps you could show me whatever it is another time.”

“Now, now, d’Artagnan,” Tumas chided. “You can always report off sick,” he sneered.

Suddenly, d’Artagnan had the feeling he knew what it felt like to be a hare caught in a trap.

“Boys,” Tumas glanced over at Alain and Edward, “hold him down.”

As he struggled against the other two men, d’Artagnan’s shirt was ripped off him by Marc.

“I think you’ve had enough fun and games for the night, Tumas!” d’Artagnan shouted.

“Hardly, pup,” Tumas laughed as he placed the tip of his dagger along d’Artagnan’s abdomen and made a deep, clean slice clear across it. Hearing the boy scream in agony just made him laugh all the harder. “Now wasn’t that fun, Musketeer?” he smirked and winked at his buddies.

“Think we didn’t know you kept sneaking up to see Treville,” Edward spat. “We followed you just to make sure you were really one of us.”

“Knew it was too good to be true,” Marc shook his head sorrowfully. “Athos and your other friends poisoned you against us.”

“Not true!” d’Artagnan tried to deny as he continued to struggle but their combined strength, along with the blood he was certainly losing, kept him in place. “They haven’t a clue about what I’m I’ve been doing with any of you!”

“What do we do with him now, Tumas?” Alain asked.

“Leave him in front of Athos’ door,” Tumas grinned. “The brat will have bled out by then.”

++++

_Athos apartment_

About to turn in for the night, Athos heard a thumping noise outside his door. Reaching for his pistol he had laid on the table earlier, he cautiously approached. The last thing he expected to see was the sight that greeted him of their youngest’s bloody form on his doorstep. “Mon dieu, D’Artagnan!” he cried out, falling to his knees beside the prone body. There was blood everywhere but Athos ignored it as he cradled the child to him. Then knowing action was called for and not panic, he picked the lad up in his arms, racing for the infirmary. Doctor Devereaux was on duty and helped him settle d’Artagnan on one of the empty beds.

“I need Aramis!” Devereaux yelled and watched Athos run back out for the much needed skills of the medic.

++++

_Hours later, infirmary_

“Be glad for the boy being from Gascony,” Aramis washed the blood away from his hands after putting the last stitch in the lad’s abdomen, helping the doctor save d’Artagnan’s life.

“Eh? Why’s that?” Porthos was dismayed to see the cuts all along the lad’s arms and legs. If this is what he had to do for this undercover assignment, Porthos had words for the captain later. But looking at Athos’ face he could tell by the tightening of his friend’s jaw that he was furious.

“Our chiot’s one stubborn youngster,” Aramis smiled but it faded as he studied the unconscious youth. “I was afraid he wasn’t going to make it at one point, he lost so much blood,” Aramis would not go down that road. He couldn’t think of a time where they wouldn't have d’Artagnan around to keep them all on their toes.

Seeing their captain stride into the room, Athos ground his teeth together so hard it was a wonder he didn’t give himself a deuce of a headache. He held himself back from roaring in fury at his commander. Still, he couldn’t help the few words that did escape him. “I hope it was worth it!”

Irritated by his lieutenant’s attitude, Treville snapped. “I won’t know that until d’Artagnan awakens!” Then he sighed and rubbed at his tired face. “I didn’t mean it like that, Athos.” He knew he owed them all an explanation but realized that his men had already made an accurate guess at what was going on. That's why these three men were considered his top soldiers. Nothing usually got past them. “I nearly decided against involving the lad in this plan, but I had to find out who those remaining men in this group were.”

“Ya mean, aside from those _assholes_ d’Artagnan’s been running around with there’s more of em’?” Porthos voice was incredulous as he found out there were other soldiers in their regiment that were hurting themselves like this for the fun of it. By the time he, Athos and Aramis had found out what Tumas and his cohorts actually got up too they didn’t like what they heard one bit and that their baby brother was mixed up with them was unthinkable. That’s when they started to realize there was more to this than met the eye.

“Oui,” Treville nodded his head as he went to sit beside d’Artagnan’s bed. “It would be a disgrace against the Musketeer honor if the king were to hear of this.”

“And Richelieu would be only too glad to supply His Majesty with ammunition against us,” Athos now understood the pressure Treville was under and what made him use d’Artagnan in such a way.

“How is our boy?” Treville noticed how pale d’Artagnan was. He nearly looked like a corpse and wasn’t that a nice visual to give himself?

“He’s alive,” Aramis snapped, not ready to forgive the captain that easily for involving d’Artagnan in this damnable assignment.

“Thank you very much for that diagnosis, Aramis,” Treville glared at the man. But he understood where Aramis’ anger came from.

“The pup will be very weak for quite some time, Captain,” Aramis pointed out. “D’Artagnan lost a significant amount of blood,” his tone was grim as he explained this to his commander. “But with rest, iron rich foods to build his blood back up,” Aramis shot a look at Athos, “along with some good red wine,” he grinned at that. "Our youngest should be out of the woods.”

The sounds of moaning filled the room and had all the men crowding around the boy's bedside waiting for d’Artagnan to wake up.

Blinking his blurry eyes open, d’Artagnan's focus wavered as he took note of everyone's concerned faces. Turning his head to the side he tried to find the one face that meant the most to him... Athos. “Sorry.”

“Aht!’ Athos held up a finger. “Be at ease. I’m not mad at you for doing your duty,” he glanced sideways at Porthos and Aramis. “We just wished we had been informed first.”

“Son,” Treville laid a hand on the lad's arm, “I’m just glad you’re going to be all right. Doesn’t matter we didn’t get the other names.”

“I’m gonna go right over to that Tumas’ place and bust some heads together!” Porthos roared.

“No need,” Treville chuckled at Porthos’ reaction. “Tumas and his friends have been placed under arrest as we speak. They just made things worse for themselves by trying to kill our boy here.” He glanced at d’Artagnan’s pained grimace and winced himself for the young man’s obvious discomfort from his near fatal wound. “They were going to get booted out of the regiment but now face attempted murder charges.”

“Sir,” d’Artagnan whispered. “I did get the other names,” he could see he surprised everyone with that admission, especially Treville. “Guess they figured I wasn’t going to live long enough to tell anyone.”

“Parbleu!” Athos paled at the child’s words. “I’m going to have a heart attack I just know it,” he murmured quietly as Aramis propped him up with an arm around his shoulder, for Athos' legs suddenly felt like jelly.

“Aramis,” d’Artagnan gazed at his older friend, his thoughts somewhat muddled, “heard you mumbling something about iron?”

“Oui,” Aramis tugged on the whelp’s foot. “You’ll be eating plenty of liver,” he huffed in laughter as the boy pulled a face, “along with any dark leafy greens Serge can manage to get his hands on once I inform him of what's needed to build your blood back up."

“That means spinach aplenty,” Porthos dark eyes danced as he too couldn’t help but laugh at the child’s expression.

“We’ll have to watch your sugar and coffee intake as well as they can rob your body of the nutrients you need while healing,” Aramis snorted as their young one rolled his eyes.

“What about wine?” d’Artagnan thought it most unfair that he would have to suffer through those unappealing foods to give his body what it needed to heal. But at least he could enjoy his drink he thought.

“Red wine and I’ll monitor that closely,” Aramis patted the pup on the chest gently. “It won’t be all bad, d’Artagnan. There are other things you can have that are more appetizing to your palate.”

“Such as?” d’Artagnan highly doubted it by the sound of things.

“Licorice, ginger, any type of citris,” Aramis smiled as d’Artagnan’s face lit up. “Along with raisins, prunes and mushrooms. I know you love your mushrooms,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps we could coerce Serge into cooking a nice roasted duck for you when you're up to it later.”

“If I can have all those it won’t be so bad after all,” d’Artagnan murmured tiredly. He was exhausted and felt every one of the cuts on his body throb in time with his aching head. Not to mention this last cut Tumas’ left him with which, of course, was the worst of the lot.

“Captain, d’Artagnan can tell you more when he’s had a decent night's rest.” Doctor Devereaux could see that the strain of trying to stay awake was taking its toll on the younger man. “Would all of you gentlemen mind leaving the boy until tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Captain Treville looked down on d’Artagnan as he stood up. “This wasn’t the way I wanted the information gathered but then again it's all or nothing with you, d’Artagnan,” which earned him a slight snuff of laughter from the lad.

“We’ll be here right early in the mornin’ ta see ya, boyo,” Porthos whispered close to d’Artagnan’s ear, running a gentle hand through the child's long hair.

“Mind my needlework,” Aramis grinned at their youngest, gently ruffling d’Artagnan’s hair as the boy tried to bat his hand away.

“Do as Aramis says, d’Artagnan and don’t pull those stitches apart,” Athos warned softly as he rested his hand on the boy’s cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking it until he watched the lad’s eyelids flutter shut once more. Athos didn’t want to leave, especially when d’Artagnan leaned into his touch. Sometimes petite brothers could be deuce hard to handle but perhaps that’s why God put them on earth in the first place... to bedevil their poor older brothers.

As the men followed their captain out the door, the inseparables knew they wouldn’t get any sleep this night.

“Ya know when d’Artagnan’s feelin’ up to it why don’t we all go to that little lake right outside of Paris and take him fishin’,” Porthos grinned at his own suggestion. “He’d like that.”

“I’ll get Serge to pack us a nice picnic lunch,” Aramis laughed, liking his friend’s suggestion very much indeed.

“I could go into town to that little bakery d’Artagnan loves so much and pick up some of their specialties,” Athos too thought it a good idea.

Walking in the middle, Aramis threw his arms around both of his comrade’s shoulders as they headed for their respective homes. His baby brother was alive and with time, God willing, all his wounds would heal. And they would never, never let the chiot out of their sight again.

The End


End file.
